


Reunion

by MistressRenet



Category: Poirot - Agatha Christie
Genre: Alternate Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Espionage, M/M, Post-Canon, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-07-05
Updated: 2004-07-05
Packaged: 2018-10-17 21:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10602603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressRenet/pseuds/MistressRenet
Summary: After the events ofCurtain,Poirot and Hastings reunite.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Agatha Christie slash for [](http://fan-the-vote.livejournal.com/profile)[**fan_the_vote**](http://fan-the-vote.livejournal.com/) , for [](http://randomglitter.livejournal.com/profile)[**randomglitter**](http://randomglitter.livejournal.com/) Opening quote is, of course, from "Curtain," the book that made me cry for _days_ way back in sixth grade when I read it. X-posted to [](http://fan-the-vote.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fan-the-vote.livejournal.com/)**fan_the_vote** , of course.

_They will be happy together, those two. They will be poor, and innumerable insects will bite them and strange fevers will attack them--but we all have our own ideas of the perfect life, have we not?_

"M'sieu Hastings?"

_"Oui."_

"Allez, maintenant. It is clear."

" _Merci,_ Phan."

_"De rien."_

I never saw the face of the man who transported me, but I will be forever grateful to him. I slipped out from under the canvas and stepped into the streets of Qui Nhon.

I looked around for a moment, lost and disoriented. But then the familiar voice of my dearest friend brought me to my senses.

"Ah, _mon ami_ Hastings-- _mon ami_ Hastings--"

I turned, and saw my friend anew.

When the war had broken out, we had volunteered our services at once, but to our dismay no one had any desire for a retired captain and a retired Belgian policeman, no matter what their skills were. But Poirot, as he always was under such circumstances, was relentless; he could not sit idly by and allow his beloved country to be defiled so horribly. And so we had come at last to French Indochina, where Poirot's facility with the language might allow him to be of some use, and where we had heard the native people were working actively against their Japanese oppressors.

He had been convinced the Nazis would note his disappearance, and so he had determined to feign his death. We had gone to Styles, where my friend had affected a drawn and sickly appearance; and in a house filled with accomplices, we acted out a drama that you may read about in my own narrative, _Curtain._ The story Poirot conceived was brilliant, and an excellent way to 'eliminate' many brave Englishmen and women who were about to leave the country for their own dangerous missions. Still, I was still unhappy with the ruse; to be perfectly honest, even imagining the loss of my dear friend in the pages of a manuscript had caused me great pain, and my children--save Judith, whom we entrusted with the truth--had been concerned about my well-being. I had managed to convince them I needed to take a trip, alone, to clear my head of the memories of my losses; I had not, however, told them I'd be sneaking into a war-torn country by cart.

Poirot had let his once-black hair go to its natural white, and his moustache was gone. He limped slightly as he walked up to greet me.

"It is lovely, _non?_ " Poirot took my hand and led me out into the street. "The men, they hold hands here. A sweet custom, _bien sur._ "

I looked around at the city he was leading me through. It was indeed lovely; a damp, wet, heat filled the air that I would no doubt have found oppressive under different circumstances. But the vegetation was lush, and the people were beautiful, and the smells in the air were spicy and inviting.

"If we cannot fight _les Nazis_ in England, let us fight _Les Japonais_ here in Annan," Poirot said. His fingers on my arm felt strong, vigorous; Egypt had indeed done him a world of good. I felt delighted to once again be in his company.

I thought of our long history together; our adventures, meeting my wife, our companionship for so many years. I owed so much happiness in my life to him.

"I am so glad to be with you again," I said, reaching out and touching his face. It looked so strange without his familiar moustache, yet no less dear to me.

To my surprise, he blushed slightly. " _Mon ami_ Hastings," he said shyly, "while the men of Annan hold hands in public, I am not entirely sure that they kiss on the street."

"Of course," I said, slightly taken aback.

"We will explore the idea in private quarters, _non?_ "

I looked into his eyes, twinkling as they always had. "Yes," I said, taking his hand again. "We shall."  


**Author's Note:**

> I expect after the war they go to South America and help out that lovely M. Weisenthal.


End file.
